


Humane

by Cylin



Category: Star Trek Into Darkness - Fandom, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, What Was I Thinking?, bitchy characters, intellectual bitchfight, uhm D/s?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-06
Updated: 2013-06-29
Packaged: 2017-12-14 03:31:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/832205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cylin/pseuds/Cylin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>It was slightly unnerving – only in the deepest recesses of his human influenced mind, of course, he told himself – that he had given in to such a base emotion as rage. It was unnerving and troubling to his rational mind to have failed so utterly to keep himself in check. He needed to confront the source of such rage, simply to see if he was permanently flawed.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> It seems there is little Khock fic out there.  
> But there are people, who want to read it, so I do something here, which I haven't done before: Posting something un-betaed (gasp!).  
> I appologise for any mistakes. I hope you enjoy this anyway. :)
> 
> This is my first Trek fic, so please be gentle folks.

Dr McCoy was busy with all his staff caring for those injured and administering Khan’s blood to Kirk. Everyone hoped it would actually work. Reviving a tribble was a far easier task than a genetically more complex human.

The crew was in uproar, Mr Sulu as acting captain again exuding a general calm confidence in his constant messages over the comms, while he directed the crew to do the most pressing repairs while the Enterprise was still in orbit in the lower stratosphere of earth. Spock had entrusted him with this complex task, as he himself had something to take care of.

It was slightly unnerving – only in the deepest recesses of his human influenced mind, of course, he told himself – that he had given in to such a base emotion as rage. It was unnerving and troubling to his rational mind to have failed so utterly to keep himself in check. He needed to confront the source of such rage, simply to see if he was permanently flawed. That in itself was not very rational as thoughts went, but Spock abandoned that trail of reasoning in favour of the experiment at hand.

When he stopped in front of the cell, Spock saw a broken man. Khan stood in the middle of it, utterly still and seemingly proud and unbending, but Spock could see in the tense draw of his shoulders that this was not so.

He relieved the security detail of their post and turned the cameras and monitoring system off. It would not do for there to be a permanent record, if Spock indeed was universally flawed and would succumb to such trifle base emotions again.

His back still turned, Khan asked conversationally, “Is your Captain Kirk still dead?”

That made something inside Spock curl up and harden rather painfully. Instead of succumbing to it, Spock mirrored the fake pleasantry and replied, “I see you are trying to draw an emotional reaction from me. You will not achieve this.”

Khan turned, snorting out a laugh. It sounded brittle and as dry as dust. “You were the only one ever successful in breaking my right jaw as well as the left maxilla and zygomatic bones,” he mused, “So it stands to reason that I already have.”

“That is true,” Spock acknowledged neutrally. It was a simple truth. And yet, it started to stir something up inside him. “However, I assure you that it will not happen again.” Of this Spock was sure. He realised how true it was only as the words left his mouth. He did not feel any rage for this man. There was nothing so violent there. There was just an inkling of an emotion, albeit a much softer one. Spock could not fathom and categorise it yet, but it was far removed from rage or anger.

“It was all rather well played, Vulcan.” The way Khan said it made the last word sound like an honorary title and an insult in equal measures.

“I must say the same to you, Mr Khan,” Spock said neutrally pleasant. “Although it might have been better to suffocate everyone on the Enterprise and retrieve your crew, like you so dramatically announced ‘over our cold corpses’, than bargaining for them.” Spock tried to determine if there was any misgiving making itself known inside him that made this statement sound so sardonic to his ears. He found none.

“In hindsight, I’d agree,” Khan said. After a pause in which a small, unpleasant smile crept into the corners of his mouth, Khan added, “It was no idle threat.”

“I’m sure,” Spock said, “But voiced with needless drama. I would have imagined it to be actually more menacing if you’d wanted to walk over our _warm_ corpses. You’re an impatient man, Mr Khan. I cannot see you having waited the approximately 12 hours for our dead bodies to cool down to room temperature. Twiddling your thumbs, so to speak,” Spock explained dispassionately.

“Humour, Mr Spock?” Khan remarked icily, no twitch in his facial expression indicating if he was amused. “How extraordinary coming from you.”

“You have underestimated me before, Mr Khan.” Spock replied calmly. He still had the bruises and scrapes on his knuckles to prove it. Khan’s injuries were already healed over, not a mark on his perfectly engineered body. His mind, however, must be a different matter, as Khan grew still, even more controlled than before, certainly remembering the detonation of the torpedoes that he thought had ended the lives of his crew. Spock didn’t feel inclined to enlighten him. He wondered briefly if that was logical, then decided that it was, dismissing any nagging in the back of his head.

“I despise you,” Kahn whispered, his voice chafed to a hoarse croak.

“You do not,” Spock replied calmly, “You admire me.”

Khan didn’t say anything, but his eyes widened a fraction as if he’d only now become aware of this fact himself. He stepped up to the glass, tilting his head slightly sideways as he scrutinised Spock’s face with open, calculating curiosity. They were of equal height, eye to eye. Spock looked back neutrally, not a move in his facial muscles, nothing indicating the satisfaction creeping up in the back of his mind. After a while, as Khan watched, his cold blue eyes roaming over his face, Spock lifted an eyebrow questioningly.

Khan smirked coldly, the expression morphing into a derisive snort. “You are right, of course,” Khan hissed, “I can admit when I am wrong. You are not merely my equal, but superior. You are _better_.”

It didn’t fill Spock with pride or gloating. It didn’t fill him with any feeling. It was just a neutral acknowledgement of a fact.

“I admit,” Khan went on impassively, “that I never thought you’d sacrifice my crew.”

Spock felt the urge to answer truthfully, to contradict this statement, but he kept quiet. After all, Khan hadn’t directly asked him, so there was no need to answer to anything. He felt like he was maybe being a tad vindictive, but ignored it. He wasn’t lying, no, Vulcans could indeed not lie. But they could omit.

“But I guess, the need of the many does outweigh the need of the few, even if the many are inferior.” Khan sounded bitter despite his obvious attempt otherwise. He swallowed, his eyes sliding away from Spock’s face for a moment. There was the fleeting expression of cold anger again.

Spock noticed it with unaffected calm, until he realised that it was not anger at all. It was deep, bone crashing suffering: The type of gaping wound that broke a being. It was what he had felt as Vulcan disintegrated and his mother fell. And it wasn’t solely his human side feeling it either. It would break a Vulcan, too. He realised now what it looked like to think that you were the last one left of a people. To have nothing left. What it did to the one being abandoned, adrift among others, who were similar, but yet not at all like them. No kindred soul, as humans said.

Yes, the population on New Vulcan was far less than the original of his people, but at least there were still people left. Spock felt a shiver creep up his spine despite his best efforts. “They are alive,” was all he said. A simple statement without emotion attached do it. A fact stated and true.

Khan’s eyes widened, frozen in shock. Then he staggered an uncoordinated step back from the glass, the cold blue orbs of his eyes sliding sideways and upwards. It looked like the roll of eyeballs upwards when humans fainted, Spock observed.

Khan swayed for a moment. Then his legs gave out under him. He tried to catch himself with one hand on the glass, but it just slid uselessly downwards with him, leaving a faint trace of oils and sudden sweat. He fell to his knees hard.

Khan was not passing out as Spock had previously thought, he was just collapsing. But still he looked so shaken that Spock felt the need to remove the glass and offer assistance if it was needed.

The barrier of reinforced glass swooshed out of existence at the push of a button and Spock stepped into the cell, the barrier glimmering back behind him with a satisfying displacement of air.

Khan crouched before him on his folded legs. His head tipped back slowly, like his neck muscles couldn’t support it anymore, looking straight at Spock. His breath rattled out of his lungs. His cold, cold eyes brimmed with moisture.

Khan could strategise, could think logically like any Vulcan, but he was still a man governed by his emotions. This must be what was happening, Spock determined, as the man before him unexpectedly surged up to his knees and embraced Spock’s midriff in a crushing hug.

Khan was breathing hard, his exhalations cracking, raw puffs, as he buried his face in the soft part of Spock’s lower stomach. It was reminiscent only to a very young human child, as far as Spock had ever observed it.

Khan then stiffened, like he was suddenly realising what this meant for him. His head slid sideways, his eyes creeping up along Spock’s torso to his face. Khan tried to look impassive, uncaring, but the dejected flicker over his face betrayed him. It was so clear what was going on behind those man’s eyes it was almost painful to watch, even for Spock. Khan’s expression was raw, bruised and abraded, clearly deducing that he was being trapped again.

“What do you want then?” Khan rasped against Spock’s blue uniform.

Of course he’d think that the federation would use his crew as ransom, like Admiral Marcus had done before. It was a logical thought. A brilliant strategy replaying itself. Spock entertained the idle thought, whether it would have indeed been more humane to have killed Khan’s crew, when their sheer existence was again trapping him in a vicious circle of servitude.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I pretty much post this as I write it, so the chapter breaks are crappy. I apologise.

“There is nothing of you I require,” Spock said calmly.

Khan grew still, his eyes searching his face for any sign of treachery. He looked so mistrusting, Spock thought it wise to reiterate a little further, “There is nothing Starfleet or I want from you.”

Khan’s face morphed into such an indignant look of bafflement that Spock could appreciate what humans liked so much about situational humour. “You might be genetically advanced and neurologically quicker than the average human,” he explained, “But you cannot be trusted. So anybody working with you would face imminent betrayal. Frankly, your input is not valuable enough.” It was again only a statement of fact, but it made Khan’s face draw into a pinched expression.

Spock tilted his head sideways, assessing the other man’s facial expression closely. “Have I hurt your feelings?” He inquired dryly.

“Funny,” Khan shot back darkly, his eyes looking murderous. It would have had more of an alarming effect, if he wasn’t still kneeling at Spock’s feet, his arms clasped tightly around his midriff.

“You are dangerous, Mr Khan.” Spock said, derailing the conversation back to the actual topic. Something about this not-really-human made Spock uneasy in his own skin.

“Advancement is always dangerous,” Khan retorted, jumping back to the subject as seamlessly.

“That depends on the application, doesn’t it,” Spock said neutrally. Both of Khan’s hands were only loosely wrapped around Spock, but still their warmth started to seep through Spock’s uniform. Irrationally, Spock was almost astounded that a man so cold, could have such warm hands.

Khan looked at him, his eye narrowing a little. “If you believe us so dangerous, you cannot possibly mean to let us go.”

“Of course not.” Spock was momentarily astounded at the sudden naiveté, but realised as quickly that Khan was merely doing a human thing: thinking aloud.

“Then what?” Khan’s expression grew cold and hard. “Are you going to euthanize us?”

Spock lifted an eyebrow at that. “That has been out of practice for centuries.”

“Officially, yes,” Khan agreed darkly. “But like you said, we are dangerous.”

“It has been decided that you and your crew will remain in cryo-sleep for the duration until such time that a more satisfactory decision can be made.” Spock looked straight in his eyes as he added, “You and your crew will be under Vulcan guard on New Vulcan. I personally vouch for your safety.” When Khan still looked suspicious, he added, “And for your crew.”

“Vulcans cannot lie, but I’ve learned this lesson now,” Khan smiled without any humour. “Are you twisting the truth or omitting any information regarding the arrangements for safety of my crew and me?”

“No,” Spock answered truthfully. “You will be safe.”

At that it seemed like all the fight left Khan in a slow trickle. First his arms loosened around Spock, sinking to his sides. Spock felt oddly deprived for a moment, until he quickly had himself back under control.

Khan sank further back, folding in on himself. He let his head hang rather ungracefully, drooping forwards as his whole body relaxed. It took Spock a moment to notice that Khan was shaking ever so slightly. There was a murmur coming from him in an endless litany. His voice was low and thrumming as Khan whispered “Thank you” again and again.

Spock observed this with no reaction. To an outsider this might appear to be cold and cruel, but in reality there was nothing he could say to this. There was no answer to Khan’s grief over a crew he wouldn’t see again for years, maybe even centuries, or his relief at knowing they were safe.

“You must feel alone, knowing you’re the only one of your kind.”

Khan’s head whipped up at that sharply, his face ashen, his teeth bared. “Don’t mock me!” He spat, his eyes blazing, but they swam with tears. From anger or grief, Spock couldn’t tell.

“I am not mocking you,” Spock assured him and wondered briefly, why he felt the need to do so, “I was merely making what I thought would be a consoling observation of the difficulties you face.”

“Fuck consolations,” Khan growled, but it sounded dry and worn too thin. There was no strength behind it. “You don’t feel anything, do you?” Khan asked, the tears finally running down his face. It didn’t make him look weak or broken like Spock would have thought. It made Khan look even stronger, fully in tune with the strong emotions that must surely be coursing through him.

“That is a false assumption. One, humans make frequently.” Spock wondered why that was – other than humans being, well, _human_. He was capable of so much emotion it sometimes felt like it could rip him apart, pulverise his insides in a heartbeat. “Vulcans do feel,” he said. He didn’t really understand why he felt the need to explain this. It was most illogical to want to make Khan see that he was not in fact cold, as so many of his acquaintances liked to point out. “We merely chose not to be affected by it.”

Although he was still slightly shaking, Khan’s answering smile was wry, but still a little cold. “Among the crew of this ship, doesn’t this make you feel alone? The only one of your kind?” It didn’t sound mocking. By the look on Khan’s face it was not meant to be, but Spock felt it like a slap in the face. He stared at him, for once having no answer immediately at hand.

He swallowed once and knew Khan had noticed, when his smile grew to something less hostile. It made Spock intensely uneasy. There was something about Khan that got under his skin. This time it was not uncontrollable rage, but a kind of bond that worried Spock even more. If he allowed himself to feel the true emotional potential to this realisation, he would indeed describe it as being terrified.

It was truly astounding how a man could make him so afraid merely by making him feel. Emotions could be controlled, stored in your mind, subjugated by logic, but Spock felt his control – even more alarmingly his _will_ to control them – slipping.

Khan lifted a hand up to him, encouraging Spock to take it. Spock did, surprised that he did, but once he moved he didn’t feel like stopping himself. Khan slowly pulled him down until Spock was kneeling in front of Khan in a mirror position of his own, finally on eye level again. Khan let go of his hand. Spock looked down at his hands and was confused to see them resting on his thighs, completely relaxed.

“Look at us both,” Khan said lowly with only a hint of bitterness. Spock looked up only to realise that it was merely a phrase and Khan didn’t in fact expect him to look up. “One of a kind among strangers. Unique surrounded by those different.” A shy smile tugged at the corners of Kahn’s mouth. It looked like he was not used to it. His mouth smiled, but his eyes looked sad. “These humans are inferior, but at least they are _human_.”

Spock did not really understand what that meant, but didn’t reply. Khan seemed to notice his confusion. He continued, “I don’t want to go and sleep time away into a future that might hold less for me than this one. I don’t _want_ to be alone.” He sounded lost. Spock had never heard him sound like that. Even trying to convince Kirk from his cell, he hadn’t sounded this desperate.

“I am sorry,” Spock heard himself say quietly.

Khan’s smile spread on his face, although he still looked sad. “Thank you,” he said and seemed to mean it. He lifted one hand to Spock’s face, cupping his neck once gently. As he let his hand lower again it brushed along Spock’s jaw. An unexpected impulse made him lean into the palm for a moment.

Surprise flittered over Khan’s face, his blue eyes wide. His hand froze in the gesture halfway, only his fingertips remaining against the skin of Spock’s jaw. Something complicated made Khan’s expression flutter and shift. It finally settled into something gentle. Spock was almost shocked to see this gentleness there in a face he had only associated with violence and cold calculation before. But now it seemed to become alive with a softness that seemed almost out of place.

Khan left his fingers just brushing the skin and leaned forward as if he was following the line of his arm up to his hand still at Spock’s jaw. Just before Khan’s lips would brush his, he stopped. He just held himself there, keeping still, letting Spock the option to pull away – or close the distance.

Spock thought about Nyota, how she loved him and he loved her.

This was different somehow. It was about closeness of a different kind. Closeness of the ones alone. Of the ones separate. It seemed humane in the basest of meanings of the word, although they were both not fully human. Maybe it was even more humane because of it.

Spock felt Khan’s breath flow over his lower lip as he exhaled. It shuddered just slightly, almost non-detectable.

Spock closed the distance with a short jerk of his head, sealing his lips to Khan’s. He leaned into the lithe bulk of the other man, pushing him backwards, subjugating him to his movement. Khan went willingly, but grabbed onto his arms as his centre of gravity shifted too far back and he toppled over. Spock slung an arm around his back to prevent him from falling.

“This is illogical,” Spock heard himself mumble between Khan’s lips. Khan snorted once between flicking his tongue against Spock’s upper lip and brushing his own against the lower one. It sounded amused. Then his breathing choked on a sob. “I don’t…,” Khan panted wetly between laps of his tongue. He pushed his torso closer to Spock, writhing sinuously in his grip still supporting Khan’s weight. The man was made of muscle and sinew, but even with all his strength he seemed fragile to Spock for a moment. Like an old fashioned knife made from ceramic. It could kill, but it could also splinter.

“I don’t want,” Khan started again between choked breathing, “I don’t want to be alone.”

Spock drew back at that, letting Khan spread his arms behind him to support his own weight. He let his eyes roam over the human’s face, trying to read what was going on in his head. Khan avoided his gaze, looking to the side. Spock could read nothing in his expression except that he looked uncomfortable.

“You are afraid,” Spock said slowly. It would be pure chance if that was really what was going on.

Khan grinned angrily, the expression not really deserving the term ‘grin’. It looked so strained. He got up from the floor in one fluid move, turning his back to Spock, hiding his face.

“That is probably the only thing I’m really afraid of,” Khan admitted lowly, his voice a rasp of breath. Spock could hear how he worked to force the words through a choked windpipe.

Khan had his hands tightened into angry white fists at his sides. Spock wondered if they were still as wonderfully warm as before, or if the clench was pushing the blood out of the tiny vessels enough to make the skin cold and clammy.

Spock got up slowly, aware that the other man probably noticed his every move. He kept his movements slow, deliberate, as he stepped up behind him, until he stood close enough for the uniform over his chest to rasp dryly against the back of Khan’s black shirt. “I am sorry,” he whispered.

“So am I,” Khan answered back. Both didn’t know what they were apologising for. But it was enough to reach a sense of an underlying understanding.

Khan turned his head to the side, his eyes straining hesitantly up to look at Spock’s face in his peripheral vision. “Can you let go of your control?” He asked.

“Yes.”

“Would you?”

Spock hesitated and Khan noticed. He turned his head away again, swallowing once as his shoulders tensed up.

“Is that what you need?” Spock asked lowly. His question was only a raw rasp against Khan’s cloth covered shoulder. Khan nodded.

“Is the imbalance of power between us – me being superior to you – what you need?” 

Khan nodded again, the tension finally leaving him. “I want to belong for a while,” he admitted almost inaudibly.


	3. Chapter 3

Spock let a hand drift up from his side to Khan’s hand. The man tensed at the touch, but Spock followed the line of Khan’s arm upwards regardless, brushing it around the joint of the shoulder, feeling the bump of the outer edge of his collar bone under his fingers. The bone structure on this human was remarkable, Spock observed. Despite his detachment however, he felt saliva flood his mouth and his heartbeat increase.

Khan forcibly tried to relax under the caress. It was a fight within him – one that Spock could clearly see and it made him smile wickedly despite his best intentions.

Khan’s eyes slid to where Spock’s hand still rested on his shoulder. He frowned briefly at the discolouration and broken skin on the knuckles. The sight must have triggered a decision in Khan, as he slowly, deliberately unthreatening, covered Spock’s hand with his. He turned around gradually, closing his fingers over the hand more firmly. His eyes never left the abrasions. With the same elegant slowness he lifted Spock’s hand to his mouth. He caressed the bruises with parted lips. His eyes snapped up to Spock’s in a quiet challenge to dare to pull away.

The intense gaze made Spock curiously warm. The tendrils swirling through his blood, combining with the seemingly ever-present slithering coil in his gut, he could now clearly identify as arousal. It felt different to what he felt for Nyota in the throes of passion, but it was as strong, as overpowering.

Khan opened his mouth then, a wet tongue lapping at the broken skin with the utmost care. His saliva didn’t sting, as Spock would have expected, but felt nicely warm in a sticky sort of way that should feel odd, but was anything but.

“How will I know if you want to stop?” Spock asked, still perplexedly mesmerised by the slow slide of Khan’s tongue over his skin. His cock started to stir, hardening in his trousers. If he had less self-control he would have started to tremble under the wet strokes.

“I won’t.” Khan’s voice sounded wetly muffled against the back of Spock’s hand. It sounded like a challenge again. Spock’s eyes narrowed at that. The situation appeared to him to become decidedly unsafe. Well, more unsafe than it already was. Technically. Probably. Maybe.

 “Let go,” Khan rasped. His voice shook and it took Spock a moment to realise that he was quietly pleading. The breath was violently pushed out of his lungs as Spock’s stomach contracted at the rapid wave of arousal.

“Please, just let go,” Khan begged, clearly pleased by Spock’s reaction to his words. He leaned even closer, tilting his hips forwards, brushing languidly against him. “I won’t break. You know I won’t.” He let go of Spock’s hand. It tingled curiously, but any thought on it was derailed further when Khan pushed a lean thigh between Spock’s and gently angled it upwards. He lifted both hands and cupped Spock’s face with a tenderness that was so contrary to what Spock had assumed about his character it made him reel with excitement so violently startled awake. Fortunately, life-long practice made it possible for Spock not to show every nuance of it on his face.

“Trust me that I know myself,” Khan whispered, Spock’s face still held tightly between his warm hands. “And trust me that I trust you.”

Spock’s eyes widened at that. How had they come from mortal enemies to this?

But then trust – real, deep trust – didn’t need friendship as a base. It hinged on understanding and respect – both of which they had between them, as odd as it was. Spock had to trust that Khan indeed knew himself well enough to know when to let go and what his limits were.

“I still want a word, a sign, something,” Spock insisted, maybe only to oppose Khan.

Khan grinned. It looked feral. “Your girlfriend’s name – Nyota, was it? – seems appropriate.”

Spock lifted an eyebrow in perplexed confusion. It was getting harder to think logically.

“She was the one to make you stop. The only one, who probably could,” Khan explained, his smirk getting wider. “You really care for a safe word,” he shook his head, continuing in a mocking leer, “Aren’t you a good boy?”

Spock’s nostrils flared in sudden, aroused anger. His breath was harsh as he grabbed Khan around the back of the neck, hurling him around. His thumb and little finger dug into the muscle especially ruthlessly, as he pushed Khan towards the floor.

Khan hissed startled, caught off guard, but he melted to the ground almost without restraint. He apparently assumed that Spock wanted him kneeling and his breath hitched in shock, when Spock just pushed harder, when he was already on his knees. He pulled Khan forward a little and then further down, until his head was almost on the floor.

Spock knelt with him, following his movements, letting his weight settle on Kahn’s back, still pushing callously.

The only thing keeping Khan’s face from being mashed against the floor was him holding against Spock’s shove with the considerable strength of his arms and upper torso. He panted roughly. His breath misted the brilliantly white floor in damp puffs.

Spock was pleased to notice that it was not only the physical exertion making him breathe so heavily. “Exited, are we?” Spock whispered close to his face.

Khan squeezed his eyes shut, biting down on his ragged breathing. The minute shift of his legs drawing together however, was not lost on Spock.

“You claim to be the epitome of what humans can be, and yet simple dominance gestures have the most profound effect,” Spock observed aloud, revelling a little in the cruelty of voicing it so Khan could hear it, too. He was now fully hard, aching for friction, pressure, anything.

Khan just shuddered as Spock tightened his grip on his neck, pushing him just a bit lower to the pristine decking of the cell. “You are just an animal deep down,” Spock mocked deliberately as he leaned further onto the other man. Khan only shuddered more, his arms straining and quivering at his sides keeping him from being crushed by Spock’s weight pushing on his back.

Spock’s groin almost touched Khan’s backside, but not yet. Not yet. This was a game played for time. He heard the smile creep into his voice before he even felt it baring his teeth. “Just a pack animal, Khan: A common dog, seeking an alpha.”

Khan trembled, a low pant morphing into an inhuman groan in answer. “I am not an animal!” He growled shallowly. He coughed, his rips expanding with difficulty underneath Spock to draw enough breath to even form the sentence properly.

“Yes you are,” Spock contradicted in a low hiss, “You are to me.” It wasn’t an outright lie – he could construe it as a biologically sound argument - but it came very close to one. It drew a fascinating reaction from Khan though: He shook violently, a long moan drawn from his throat on a feeble breath. The sound of it made Spock’s cock leak in his uniform trousers. This man was exquisite and exquisitely responsive. He was easy to play. Not simply play, but play achingly beautifully.

“You are mine, Khan,” Spock growled gutturally. It sounded decidedly like a threat. It also had a very interesting effect on Khan. He was probably not really aware that he was pushing his arse up and back into Spock in a very obscene gesture, offering in movements what his mind had difficulty giving up. Spock let his groin snap forward and Khan froze, suddenly alerted to the fact that he had been pushing back into his erection like an animal in heat. Khan bit down on the sudden angry howl rising in his throat, but it only abbreviated the sound to a rattling sob.

Spock grinned against the bare nape of Khan’s neck, making sure that the other man could feel it. “I own you and you belong to me,” he whispered softly into his skin. This gentleness was normally reserved for Nyota, but Khan whimpered quietly, revelling in it. He seemed to deeply need it, his tension finally unfurling from the inside like a river overflowing its banks.

“You belong to me for a while and I intend to make this while count.” Spock heard how his voice growled, curiously animalistic, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Khan groaned in relief, his arms relaxing, the two of them sinking fully to the floor. He was almost completely covered by Spock’s body now, his breaths shallow, but still flowing out in harsh, but oddly musical groans.

“You are mine, Khan,” Spock repeated just for the effect these words had on Khan, “And I intend to use you how I see fit.”

Khan’s breath hitched and his hips twitched restlessly. “Let go, Spock,” he begged hoarsely. It was clear Khan didn’t mean any physical hold Spock had over him, but the control with which Spock reigned over his own emotions.

Raising an eyebrow in deceptive calm, Spock simply murmured, “Fuck you.” Thinking, _I let go when I feel like it_.

Khan’s answer was an inarticulate groan against the polished floor of the cell. It could have been a hissed ‘yes’, but it was too garbled for Spock to make out. He didn’t want to spare energy for analysis anyway, so he ignored him.

Spock grabbed a fistful of Khan’s hair and pulled. Khan yowled lowly, bowing his spine back, his shoulders rearing up and backwards in a sharp bow. But that was not what Spock wanted. He shoved his hips forward, his groin colliding sharply with Khan’s backside, as he rammed Khan’s head back to the floor.

“Ass up, Khan,” Spock directed. When Khan had folded his legs under himself again – with some sluggish difficulty, Spock noticed smugly – he was bent in an awkward crouch. With Khan’s arms at his sides, his upper body still on the floor, Spock pulled on his hair again. It bent Kahn’s spine sharply again, but this time instead of pulling him up, it pushed his arse back into Spock. He closed his eyes briefly, relishing the shove and pressure against his cock. He was so hard it was aching now and judging from the incoherent grunting Khan wasn’t better of.

Spock thrust Khan forward with his hips, relieving the friction on his cock for a moment until he pulled Khan back at his hair. The act was clearly simulating sex, but mocking it as well. It was a glorious feeling, the constant rocking, accentuated with the sizzle of arousal in his system and rhythmic pressure on his cock. Spock contemplated, self-satisfied, that just by keeping a steady rhythm and level of stimulation this would remain rather enjoyable. Well, for him anyway.

Khan grunted in irritation when Spock didn’t proceed any further, just used the perpetual movement to rub his clothed cock hard against Khan’s equally still clothed backside.

“Frustrating, isn’t it,” Spock leered gently, almost with solicitous care, “Not getting what you want?” He had started to pant from keeping up the rough thrusts and pulls, but it did nothing to lessen the sadistic glee sneaking into his voice.

Khan had started to sweat, his hair becoming slick at the temples and the nape of his neck. “I hate you,” he rasped between gritted teeth.

Spock pulled Khan back especially hard, so that he reared back and up into his chest. He mouthed the juncture between neck and shoulder, grazing it with bared teeth in warning. “We’ve already established that you do not.” Spock grabbed the dark hair more forcefully jerking his head around until he could speak directly into Kahn’s ear. Khan trembled as he listened breathlessly. “I don’t lie to you, Khan. Give me the common courtesy of not lying to me either.”

Khan remained silent, so Spock let go of his hair with a disgusted snort and snaked the hand low around his throat closing his fingers just enough to make the unspoken threat clear. “Don’t lie to me, Khan! Do you like this?”

“Yes.” Khan’s voice was low, almost shy. Spock could see his eyes falling shut as he murmured the word. He actually relaxed a little back into Spock, letting him carry more of his weight.

Spock unclenched the hand around Khan’s throat, letting it brush upwards, over the Adam’s apple to his chin, stubble rasping against his palm. He tipped Khan’s head further back until he could rest it on Spock’s shoulder. Kahn shuddered under the tender gesture.

His hand now free, Spock let it travel back down Kahn’s throat. Taking his time he brushed his flat palm over a nipple. Khan’s breath caught in his throat. Spock moved on over his torso to his groin, cupping and squeezing the prominent erection through the trousers. Khan whimpered, his mouth falling open. It sounded deeply guttural and oddly forlorn coming from him.

“I think, this is more than just ‘like’,” Spock replied, squeezing harder, making Khan gasp helplessly.

“Fuck,” Khan swore, his voice thready. He arched his back even further to push his arse more firmly into Spock’s crotch. But Spock just leaned forwards, taking Khan with him. He went willingly. He was pliant and so gracefully adjusting to Spock’s movements that Spock had to hold his breath to not groan out loud at this beautiful display. Spock slid the hand that had gripped Khan’s cock only moments before upwards again to curl it carefully around Khan’s forehead. He gently let the other man’s head come to rest on the floor.

Khan sighed lowly, coming to rest in a crouch, his bent arms resting relaxed at his sides, his back stretched out before Spock.

Spock took a moment to lean back and observe the other man. The view gave him an idea. Nyota always liked it when he did this – fuck it, _he_ liked doing it, and so he would.

A while ago his willingness to just follow his urges would have made Spock incredibly uncomfortable, but now it just spurred him on. Arousal was coursing through his blood like a drug and he loved it. It was Pon Farr, the human sex drive and his own erotic preferences rolled into one. Intoxicating and exciting. The power of it made him lightheaded. He swallowed, catching his breath, trying to slow it. It took him a moment to calm at least a little, so his hands wouldn’t shake anymore.

Slowly he pushed Khan’s shirt up his back, revealing more and more of his pale skin. Khan grew very still, his muscles becoming taught in unsure anticipation.

 _Beautiful_ , Spock thought unguarded. He leaned forward, opening his lips against Khan’s lower back. Bracing his weight on one arm, he let his tongue paint a wet slide of saliva upward on the right side of the spine to just under Khan’s shoulder blade. Out of the corner of his eyes Spock could see Khan’s hands clench on the floor. The other man shuddered violently, trying hard to suppress it, but failing quite spectacularly. “Fu- … oh God,” Khan rasped brokenly.

“Really?” Spock smirked against his skin. “Swearing to a deity you don’t even believe in?”

Khan just trembled under his lips. Spock resumed his soft ministrations with no hurry or any intention to stop. Goosebumps sprang up wherever he touched his lips or tongue to Khan’s back coating the skin in saliva.

“You’re very sensitive on your back,” Spock observed with fascination, letting his tongue lap at the sweat that started to bead on the skin near the dip of the spine.

Khan groaned, stretching his back to give Spock more access. He was squirming under the onslaught, but also leaned into the caress. It was an odd combination of avoidance and seeking more contact.

“Can you come from this?”

A desperate whimper tore form Kahn’s throat as he stretched his back out more. “Fuck me,” he begged throatily against the floor. It sounded defiant and was spoken too quickly. He obviously tried very hard to divert Spock’s attention. _Interesting._

“That’s my decision to make,” Spock whispered darkly. Khan shuddered at the quiet tone of authority in his voice. Spock smirked, feeling self-satisfied. Fucking was easy. It was the easy way out. But making Khan come from a tender touch had infinitely more appeal.

“When was the last time anyone touched you like this?” Spock asked conversationally. It was part of the game, but he also genuinely wanted to know. Khan was so desperate for touch and seeking it unconsciously with such hunger, it was startling. More startling to think what could have made him so touch-starved.

But Khan didn’t answer. His shoulders tensed up, making the muscles in his back quiver and twitch under the skin. It took Spock a moment to understand that Khan was not answering because he didn’t want to, but because he couldn’t. He didn’t know the answer.

“Please fuck me,” Khan whispered despairingly instead, sounding frantic.

This situation was utter magnificence. “I see,” Spock mused aloud, purely to let Khan know that, of course, Khan’s attempt at subterfuge was pointless and he had already figured it out.

Khan shook violently. A thick, guttural groan shuddered out of him. His voice was gravelly and had slid into such a deep register it was hard to hear. It sounded resigned, but Spock thought he could also detect a tinge of relief in his surrender. It amused Spock greatly. He pushed at Khan’s shirt and Khan obediently fumbled out of the item of clothing awkwardly with trembling hands. His grace had apparently deserted him. It only made Spock’s amusement grow.

Free of his black shirt, Khan sank back down to the floor, his back representatively bared. His whole frame was quaking with a low perpetual tremor of tension. “Why won’t you just fuck me – use me like you said?” Khan sobbed.

“Because that would be easy,” Spock answered sympathetically, “I also do not think that that’s what you need.”

Khan didn’t reply. He hit a clenched fist against the floor, swearing under his breath, but otherwise he just stayed as he was. His breath sounded strangled, coming in shallow pants. He was beautifully giving in to his fate.

Spock leaned forwards, lowering his head to Khan’s lower back. He stopped just before touching him and just breathed out. His exhale washed over naked skin. Khan tensed. It became achingly clear by the trembling that slowly overtook his whole body, how much Khan was fighting for control. Fighting all the way, but still giving in. It was a glorious wonder to witness. When Spock’s lips finally touched his skin again, Khan erupted in a deep howl, straining to keep still and not follow his urge to pull his sensitive back away.

“I can’t, Spock, please, I can’t, I can’t,” Khan babbled frantically, while his body betrayed him by arching his back further up towards Spock’s mouth.

“Yes, you can,” Spock said, trying to push as much authority as he could into his hoarse voice, “And you will.”

Khan simply whimpered, clenching his hands to fists again, shaking.

Spock swallowed convulsively. He debated to keep control, to not follow these base urges. But in the end he realised it was a battle long lost. Relieved on an instinctive level he just let go, and it was so easy. He grabbed his own erection through the uniform trousers, rhythmically squeezing as his tongue lapped at Khan’s back.

Khan just tensed more. His back was ramrod stiff in an elegant bow arched towards Spock’s mouth. He whimpered and panted, his voice gone completely, only wet puffs of air confirming that he was still taking in air. Spock loved every minute of it. The power that surged through him, the power high at having this man, this utterly unbending man at his mercy was more than stimulating. He shuddered, squeezing harder between his legs. “Amazing,” he whispered. “You’re amazing.”

Khan stilled suddenly, his inhale getting stuck in his throat. It rushed out on a low keening sound as he started to shudder and convulse, giving himself over fully to his orgasm. He remained in his position still and Spock admired the self-control it must take to do so, but he twitched and shook, his hands clenching and unclenching against the floor of the cell.

“Oh God,” Khan panted, hastily turning around and lunging rather uncoordinatedly at Spock. “Let me – please – Fuck, I want – Oh God, shit...”

It was rather satisfying to hear Khan robbed of any articulate speech and reduced to vulgar swearing.

Spock just lifted an eyebrow as Khan pawed at his chest, roughly pulling the uniform shirt away from Spock’s throat. Khan pressed his mouth to the side of Spock’s neck and for a moment Spock thought that he would bite down. But Khan only let his teeth rest against the skin as he caught his breath. Then he closed his lips over them again and planted gentle, close-lipped kisses there, his trembling slowly subsiding.

Spock lifted both his arms up and around Kahn’s back in an embrace, one hand travelling up and down Khan’s spinal column. Khan moaned softly at the contact, muffled by Spock’s skin.

Spock smiled. “You want this,” he observed with quiet satisfaction.

“God,” Khan murmured forlornly, nonsensically. It was just a caress, nothing erotic about it, but Khan craved it – maybe even more than any sexual touch of before.

He held onto Spock’s jaw with one hand as he rose up a little to plant a grateful kiss square on Spock’s mouth. Khan’s breath washed raggedly over his lips. “You didn’t – I want – Can I make you come, please?”

Spock sucked in a breath. He closed his eyes briefly, exhaling in a controlled manner to get his arousal back under control. It was the last word – this ‘please’, uttered with honest want, desire, longing – that had done it. “This was not about me, so it is not necessary,” Spock said at last, his voice still a little hoarse, but more in control than Spock actually felt.

“Don’t be such a sickening do-gooder, Spock!” Khan growled in annoyance. “This is as much about you as it is about me.”

And this right here was proof how valuable and how good Khan could potentially be as a second in command: He was able and willing to follow orders, but also wouldn’t take any shit from his superior and call him on it ruthlessly. It secretly amazed Spock and simultaneously made him sad to realise the chance that was denied to Khan through circumstance.

“I want to.” Despite the harsh tone of his voice Khan looked at him with such yearning, that Spock had to swallow hard to keep his focus. He took one of Khan’s hands and opened his trousers with the other with a lot less grace than he cared to admit. He shoved Khan’s hand inside and wrapped it around his straining erection, shuddering in relief as he felt the strong grip.

“Fuck!” Khan hissed triumphantly, curling his hand greedily around Spock’s cock. He dove back in for deep kisses.

His tongue slid wetly into Spock’s mouth as his hand slid along his cock, helped by precome and sweat. Spock moaned lowly. Khan reared back at the sound, his eyes darting over Spock’s face. He looked startled, but then it morphed to an expression of utter pleasure, smug and bold, as he leaned back down for more intimate kisses. His strokes became stronger, more geared to reach a goal rather than just keep stimulation at a constant level.

Every so often, between deep filthy kisses, slides of tongue and lips coated with spit, did Khan look at Spock, his eyes darting over his face with unconcealed hunger and pinpoint focus. Spock shuddered under the gaze every time.

“You’re greedy,” Spock observed with baited breath. His hips twitched up on their own account, pushing his cock harder into the curl of Khan’s hand. He was getting close. And fast.

“Yes,” Khan agreed, grinning. He dove in for a deep kiss, his tongue just caressing Spock’s lower lip. His grip tightened around Spock’s cock, flicking a slick thumb just under the head.

Spock bucked up, groaning lowly in his throat. Khan leaned back, staring intently at Spock’s face. His eyes darted over every expression, over every twitch of brows, every tension filled flicker around Spock’s eyes with absolute undisguised voracity.

It was the completely focused stare as much as anything else that pushed Spock over. He bucked and shuddered, his hips twitching up, rutting into Kahn’s fist. Khan watched intently as Spock came apart under him, come pulsing between his fingers. Spock’s back arched back sharply, writhing in an elegant bow against the white of the cell.

“You’re better than anyone I’ve ever seen,” Kahn spoke with open admiration, but also sounding incredibly pleased with himself.

“I’m better at everything,” Spock mocked gently, still panting, quoting Khan back at him.

Khan smirked. He slowly leaned down and at first Spock thought he wanted to kiss again. But Khan just brushed his cheek against Spock’s, burying his face in the crook of his neck. Spock slowly closed his arms around his back, not commenting on the low shudder that ran through Khan’s frame at the caress.

 

~*~

 

The next day Khan was escorted to his cryo-tube. Spock accompanied him, fearing that he might still want to escape. But he needn’t have worried. Khan strode along with the contingent of security officers like he was going to a medal ceremony. He didn’t utter a word along the way, staying completely silent.

He climbed into his cryo-chamber without comment or complaint, seeming strangely compliant and docile. Spock frowned at that. It irked him in a way to see Khan so tame.

“I hope we will find a satisfying solution in my lifetime,” Spock said at last.

“So do I,” Khan answered, looking up at Spock’s face from his position in the ancient cryo-tube. If there was another undertone of meaning in his statement, both men didn’t comment on it.

Khan closed his eyes and exhaled as the seal of the chamber snapped shut. The cryo-sequence initiated immediately and banned Khan into an unnatural frozen sleep.

Maybe he would wake one day again in an unknown future.

Maybe even in Spock’s lifetime.

FIN

**Author's Note:**

> These two were a lot harder to write than I thought they would be. I think, I can understand now, why there's so little of this pairing out there.....


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